


Picture Perfect

by Laziam (MItCheLlInE)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Pining, Single Parent Zayn, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MItCheLlInE/pseuds/Laziam
Summary: A wrong decision in his past made Liam's life a misery and now he is trying to make amends. Along the way, there are more surprises than he had bargained for.





	Picture Perfect

The red Ford Focus isn’t quite what Liam has been used to driving lately, but it will do the job of getting him from A to B until he figures out how he wants his future to pan out. The flight from Los Angeles had touched down a short while ago, and now he stands in the Avis car park at Birmingham Airport, trying unsuccessfully to fit his two large suitcases into the tiny boot of the hire car. The brisk autumn wind tousles his hair, a sensation he hasn’t felt in ages. He’d never imagined he would grow tired of the relentless California sun, but somehow he has. The cases are uncooperative, to say the least, and eventually, he gives up and shoves one of them onto the back seat. He smiles ruefully at the thought that virtually his whole life is in those two pieces of luggage. It will take him a little under an hour to get to Wolverhampton, depending on how crazy the traffic on the motorway will be. Hopefully, he can reach his hometown without getting caught up in rush hour traffic. 

Home - He has no idea where that even is.

He has spent the last eight years in LA, enjoying a lifestyle most people can only dream about. From the vast house, complete with pool and games room, to the flashy clothes and jewellery; he had it all - or so it would seem to those who are not in the know about him before he moved to the states. The generous salary which materialised in his account every month didn’t really match his responsibilities. Then again, he didn’t get the job on his credentials. His employer was his uncle, who happens to be the owner and CEO of one of the largest recruitment agencies in the area. At the request of Liam’s parents, he had whisked him away, as soon as he was eighteen and had finished his A-levels. Liam hasn’t been here since, nor has he had contact with his family in the UK in the last few years. 

Presently, he finds himself on the M6, which is surprisingly quiet for a Monday afternoon. Liam isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. Just a few hours earlier, he was confident that he is ready to clear the air with his folks and re-settle in England; to be himself and to not give a damn what anyone else thinks of him. Now, he is not so sure. Maybe it’s the fact that he is tired, or perhaps he is apprehensive about the confrontations ahead of him, but the pounding headache that started when he stepped off the plane refuses to shift. Pressing the ball of his hand to his temple, he sucks in a deep breath. It’s no good, he will have to stop and take some painkillers. Luckily, the next service station is only a couple of minutes away. 

He pulls into a free spot near the entrance ahead of rushing in to grab a bottle of water and some Paracetamol. After taking two, he sits in the car, letting his head fall back against the seat and closes his eyes, waiting for the drugs to provide relief. He must be more anxious than he thought. It seemed exciting and so much easier, when he decided back in LA, that he was going to quit his job and give back every one of the handouts. But in the cold light of day, it scares him shitless, if he were honest with himself. It’s hard to imagine that all he has to show for his big American adventure are a modest amount of savings and those two sodding cases.

The pain eases off a little, but Liam can’t bring himself to vacate the sanctuary of the service station just yet. He’s trying desperately to conjure up some happy images - he really does - but as usual, he starts thinking too deeply, and the destructive thoughts take on a life of their own, circling in his head without offering any solutions. 

What if he hadn’t been such a coward? If he had stood up to his parents? If he had followed his heart? What then? Would he not have looked for happiness in meaningless possessions, sharing them with insignificant people? Would he have avoided the constant emptiness, which he failed to fill with fast cars, countless affairs and of late with ever increasing amounts of alcohol? And most importantly, would HE be with Liam right now?

The dull ache that sits like a rock in his chest is all too familiar. It starts as soon as he allows himself to think about him - Zayn. He fumbles in the pocket of his leather jacket for his wallet, pulling out a crumpled photo booth strip. It has been there ever since they took the snapshots for a laugh, just prior to everything going to shit. 

Liam strokes the faded images with his thumb. They’re all that remains of a two-year relationship during which they were so in love, so happy, so full of expectation for a shared future. But Liam’s parents couldn’t accept that their son was in love with a man and sent him to the US to live and work with his uncle, and to get over his ‘silly phase’ as they liked to call it. They took his phone off him, convinced him that he should erase his social media content to mark his fresh start. And so the only proof that their love was not a figment of Liam's imagination has been these four crinkled pictures. 

He should have stood his ground, should have fought for the chance to be with Zayn. He should have at least tried to show some backbone. As it was, he gave in to the temptation of glamour and riches, telling himself that it would only be a short separation and that he would ask Zayn to join him, once he was settled.

But none of that happened. He left without saying goodbye to anyone. Not to his friends and certainly not to Zayn. He couldn’t face it, too afraid that the hurt in those beautiful amber eyes would prove too much to bear. Instead, he rang him a few weeks later, resulting in the last conversation they’ve ever had. To this day, Liam gets choked up when he lets it replay in his mind. 

“You disappear with no warning, no explanation and then, weeks later, when you feel like it, you just call as if everything is fine? That makes zero sense to me, but I guess you have your own reasons for talking to me now.” The pain in Zayn’s voice is evident. 

“It’s gonna be cool Zee, you’ll see. You just need to be a little bit patient.” Liam tried to assure his boyfriend, but his words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. Truth was, he had no idea if when he would ever see him again.

“Don’t give me that,” Zayn snorted. “You don’t give a fuck about what I need, and I really can’t tell you why, because my brain can’t equate it. So, go ahead, tell me your lies.”

“I’m not lying to you. I didn’t mean for this to happen. With all the pressure from everyone; I gave in because I just couldn’t stand it and…”

Liam’s ramblings were cut short by the deathly silence on the other end of the line. Zayn had hung up on him.

He rests his forehead on the steering wheel, acknowledging that this train of thought is getting him nowhere. Needing to shake off the troubling deliberations, he pours a little water from his bottle into his palm, wiping it over his face and letting it dry to cool his skin. He has to get going if he doesn’t want his plan to change his life to fail at the first hurdle. In a decisive move, he straightens up, carefully puts the photo strip back where he found it and rejoins the motorway. 

He feels better for the rest of the journey until he reaches the outskirts of Wolverhampton when his stomach starts to churn as the full force of his anxiety returns. He knows he is merely delaying the inevitable, but surely one last reprieve isn’t going to make a difference? Before he can change his mind, he takes the next exit, making his way to where there used to be a McDonalds which, to his delight, is still there. He parks the car and enters the dining room, taking in the updated decor, including new self-service kiosks. He affords himself a tiny smile as he listens to the crowd, surprised by how much comfort he takes from hearing the local accent. A flood of disjointed memories rushes over him. Memories of him and Zayn, chatting, laughing and flirting at the table in the far corner, of stealing small touches when they assumed nobody was watching and of meeting up with their best friends, Louis, Harry and Niall. The five of them were a tight-knit group, all very different as people, but somehow it worked. 

Liam buys a coffee and sits down in a booth by the window. He can't bring himself to sit at THEIR table, now that there isn’t any communication between them anymore. Harry is the only one who writes him cards at Christmas and for his Birthday, but keeps to superficial chit-chat, never giving many details and absolutely never mentioning Zayn. Not that he blames any of them for it, no, he is the first one to admit that it’s all down to him, that he’s the one who carelessly drove away three wonderful friends and the love of his life. 

“Hi, Liam.”

Lim stills for a split second, but the voice belongs to a child, and since it’s clearly not him they want, he continues to stare into his coffee. 

“Liam?”

This time, the voice is accompanied by a small hand resting on his arm. Liam turns to see who it belongs to and looks straight into the beaming face of a little girl. She is about six or seven with big brown eyes and a long, dark ponytail. As he returns her smile, a weird feeling creeps up within him, a sense that tells him this child looks vaguely familiar but since that can’t be true, he banishes the notion, deciding that it must be the stress talking.

“Hi,” he says instead. “How do you know my name?”

“From my Papa’s drawings,” she says, giving him another wide smile, her tongue pressed behind her teeth.

And just like that, the vague feeling becomes a horrible premonition, causing the thoughts to whirl frantically in Liam’s mind. The girl eyes him expectantly, unaware of the turmoil she is creating. Surely it’s a freak coincidence, but then, that distinctive smile and a father who draws? It couldn’t be, could it? His suspicion is confirmed almost immediately.

“Safina, why am I carrying my backpack, your school bag and all the food? You were supposed to help.”

The reprimand is delivered in a voice that Liam is so very familiar with, a voice with a thick Yorkshire accent. It’s him, it’s Zayn. By some cruel twist of fate, Liam is here in the same place as him, without him being in any way mentally or emotionally prepared. He wants nothing more than to crawl into some hole, to make himself invisible and avoid coming face to face with the man he hurt so badly. Unfortunately, whatever higher power that may exist is not tuned in to his prayers just now, because Zayn emerges from between two of the kiosks, juggling two large McDonald’s bags, a rucksack hanging from each of his arms.

“Honestly, Saffi, what do you think you’re doing running off like that?” Zayn scolds, adding in a more jovial tone, “I’m sorry, my daughter doesn’t normally bother - “ 

And that’s the moment when he recognises Liam. He stops in his tracks, puts the bags and rucksacks down and just gawks. Liam suspects that his own face mirrors the horrified expression on Zayn’s. The whole scene feels like they have been plunged into suspended animation. Liam’s vision becomes a tunnel where nobody else exists, only Zayn. He looks older, obviously, but by god he is stunning. His face had always been beautiful, but now his features are chiselled and combined with those soulful brown eyes and a light shadow of stubble, he takes away Liam’s ability to breathe.

The name tag on his hospital scrubs reads ‘Zayn - Occupational Therapist’. So, he did put his kindness and his immense creativity to good use. Liam is glad about that. 

“Papa, Papa, it’s Liam, we’ve found him,” Safina shrieks, jumping up and down, pulling her father’s sleeve.

“Yes, Baby, I can see that. Why don’t you go and get yourself a McFlurry?” Zayn cajoles, angling his wallet out off his backpack.

“But you said I can’t have one cause I’ve already had sweets today.”

“I’ve changed my mind...Dad’s prerogative.” With an exasperated noise, Zayn presses a bank card into his daughter’s hand, sending her skipping along.

Liam follows the exchange in a daze. It’s near impossible for him to process the new information. Zayn has a daughter, has found someone new to love and to have a child with, and while that doesn’t surprise him, it is not something he had ever considered. The situation is not helped by the surfacing feelings he was sure had been confined to the outermost corner of his heart. He was wrong. Every detail about Zayn painfully reminds him that this is the only man he has ever wanted.

“What are you doing here?” Zayn barks, startling Liam out of his reverie.

He clears his throat. “I’m having a coffee, that’s all. How was I to know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, clearly you didn’t. Cause if you had, you would have avoided this place like the plague. Am I right?” Zayn spits, his eyes cold.

“Don’t do this Zee, your little girl came over and spoke to me. What was I supposed to do?” 

Zayn flinches at the nickname but recovers quickly. “What were you talking about?” he demands to know.

“Apparently you have drawings of me,” Liam says. “Is that true?”

“What?” Zayn’s complexion turns a shade paler. 

“Well, is it?” Liam repeats.

Zayn swallows heavily. “She probably means the ones I did when you left.”

“And she recognised me from drawings that are eight years old when I had long curls and no beard?”

Liam is desperate to get an answer, but before Zayn has a chance to launch a retort, Safina comes skipping the table, munching on a Smarties McFlurry.

“Can we eat our tea here with Liam?” she asks between mouthfuls of ice-cream.

Zayn shakes his head, already picking up the stuff from the floor. “No, I have patients’ notes to write up, and you have homework to do, young Lady. Come on; we’re going.”

Safina puts the spoon, that had been on its way to her mouth, back into the tub. “But we just found him, Papa. Maybe Liam can come home with us and share our nuggets. Then you could ask him the questions,” she suggests, displaying a defiant yet adorable pout, another mannerism she shares with Zayn.

“Questions?” Zayn throws his daughter a puzzled look.

Safina swallows another spoonful of ice cream. Then she chirps quite unconcerned, “Silly Papa...you know, the questions on loads of the Liam pictures. I’ve read them, they say ‘why?’ and ‘wasn’t I enough?’.

The little girl glances expectantly from one man to the other. Liam stiffens, digesting those words that were innocently spoken but feel like a punch in the gut. 

Zayn makes a strangled noise, staggers forward, nudging his daughter with his elbow. “That’s enough, Safina. Liam is very busy. Now go...out...now,” he hisses. 

“But -” is all Liam hears her protesting as the two of them disappear through the double doors into the car park, leaving him to stare after them. They are halfway down the path when Safina suddenly pivots and bolts back into the restaurant. She runs over to Liam, a conspiratory grin on her face. 

“We live on top of the flower shop,” she blurts, spinning on her heel and running to join Zayn, who is not at all pleased, judging by the thunderous glare he gives her. 

Meanwhile, Liam is utterly bewildered. What the fuck just happened? His coffee is cold, but he can’t muster the energy to get another one. Besides, his insides continue to churn. For now, however, he will have to put the bizarre encounter to one side and concentrate on the things that need to be done before he can wonder where this flower shop might be, or if it’s even wise to wonder that. 

*****

Five days later

Liam is pleased with himself when he leaves the offices of his new employer. He will start as a general admin assistant at the small recruitment firm on Monday. Mr Rogers gave him the job, although he has no formal qualifications, other than those from school. To make matters worse, he couldn’t produce any references, seeing that he left without observing his notice period. And aside from that, his uncle wouldn’t write him a glowing report anyway. 

The meeting with his parents went as expected. His father yelled at him about wasted opportunities, being ungrateful and how he should go back and grovel. His mother continually dabbed at her eyes, muttering, ”Your father is right, Liam.” Neither of them had been willing to discuss why they sent him away in the first place and why he came back. He left their house, having told them that they can go and talk to him when they are ready to accept him as he is. Overall, he feels that he has accomplished what he wanted. His mother and father consider him an absolute failure, and that’s cool. He’s not going to let them determine his self-worth any longer.

On a more positive note, he has settled nicely in the room he rents from a young lesbian couple. It is bigger than he’d expected and even has an en-suite bathroom. Molly and Rebecca are nurses, and he doesn’t see much of them, but when they are at home together, their evident love for each other practically lights up the house. 

The other day, the two girls were laughing and flirting while they made dinner and Liam couldn’t help but wish that he and Zayn could have that. He had to retreat to his room in a hurry, fearing that he wouldn’t be able to hide how jealous of their relationship he is, which is both completely uncalled for and ridiculously selfish. He has no right to think like that since he is the one who made all the wrong decisions.

While he has been sorting out his new home and job, the run-in with Zayn has never been far away. It took him two days of phone calls to locate the flower shop where he lives, but now that he has the address, he is not so sure what his next move should be. Would it be totally out of order to go and see Zayn and explain himself? On the other hand, does he really want to run the risk of meeting him in his home with his new partner? No part of him doesn’t want Zayn to be happy. That’s not it. But seeing them all loved up? He shakes that image from his mind. It’s just a talk, but there is literally no conceivable reason why Zayn would want to hear anything Liam has to say. He has a new love, and he doesn’t need this particular blast from the past to turn up on his doorstep. Fact is, however, that the urge to see him again is overpowering and Liam could do with some advice. After considering and dismissing the idea over and over, he resolves to go and see Harry, who is probably the only one willing to listen. 

Liam has been mates with Harry since secondary school, his easy going personality complementing Liam’s often pragmatic approach to life. They weren’t attached at the hip, but they spent a lot of time together, and Harry always had his back. Liam sincerely hopes that this is still the case.

*****

The small bell over the door chimes as Liam enters Harry’s premises. Styles At Styles is a small boutique, selling vintage clothing and accessories. The rails on both sides of the long, narrow shop are crowded with garments representing every decade from the twenties to the eighties. Liam can feel his hands getting clammy. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but he can’t help it. 

Harry is behind the counter, writing on the label of a sparkly flapper dress. He hasn’t changed all that much, apart from his curly locks which are a lot shorter than they used to be. He is wearing a floral print shirt, probably from the eighties collection and his trademark black jeans. 

“Just a sec,” he calls while he drapes the dress over an old-fashioned rocking chair.

“Hello, Haz.”

Harry cranes to look at the visitor, his forehead scrunched up in deep concentration, but it takes him all of three seconds to place Liam, and his face lights up. 

“Payno? Well, fuck me,” he says, darting from behind the counter, pulling him into a hug. 

Is Harry actually pleased to see him? A rush of affection towards his mate surges through Liam. 

“You should have let me know you’re coming; I could’ve organised a welcome committee.”

“A welcome committee of one?” Liam asks drily.

“Hm, yes, good point. You did piss off a fair few people, but hey, Niall would have come. He’s the forgiving type,” Harry says, grinning.

Then his grin fades. “Something tells me this is not strictly a social call. What brings you here out of the blue?” he asks.

Liam slowly shakes his head. “I need some advice Haz and I didn’t know where else to turn.”

Harry goes to lock the shop door, then he pulls up a plastic chair, grabs Liam by the shoulders and eases him gently onto the seat.

“My advice? That sounds intriguing...go on then,” he says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. 

Liam inspects his folded hands. “I ran into Zayn and Safina.” 

“You’ve met Saffi? Isn’t she a darling?” Harry fonds.

“Yes, she seems like a great kid, really friendly. Unlike Zayn, who was rather less enthusiastic to see me.”

Harry’s face clouds over. “Can you blame him? He was heartbroken after you’d abandoned him, absolutely inconsolable. And you know how he gets, he didn’t cover up his scars, he just let them bleed, just so nobody would mistake his silence for peace. He suffered like you have no fucking idea, and it took him forever to get himself back on track.”

Every word cuts Liam like a blade. “I know...I know…,” he whispers repeatedly. It’s one thing to know that he hurt Zayn but quite another to have it spelt out for him like that. 

“I guess that solves my issue then,” he adds. After Harry’s harsh words, it seems an even worse idea to want to approach Zayn.

“You’re here now,” Harry says, “might as well come out with it.”

“I’m contemplating to go and talk to him, explain things. I know where he lives and yeah, that’s my plan.” There it is, and it sounds even more idiotic said out loud.

“Aha,” is all Harry replies.

“Aha? Is that all you have to say? Not, Liam you egotistical bastard, don’t even think about it?”

Harry studies him for a moment, then asks, ignoring Liam’s mini-outburst, “What are your plans after your visit?”

“I’m here to stay. I’ve got a job, rented a room and I’ve had it out with my parents. But Zayn has moved on and what right do I have to want to disturb that?” Liam rakes his fingers through his hair. “Please, Haz, tell me if it’s reasonable or just another selfishly shit thing to do.”

Liam is briefly subjected to one of Harry’s unreadable stares. It’s impossible to gauge what he makes of Liam’s request, and it’s unnerving. Is he gonna laugh, rant at him or dismiss it outright?

Just then, Harry’s dimpled smile reappears. “You still love him, right?” he asks without preamble. 

This is not was Liam was expecting. “Yes...no...I mean...yes, but that’s not important now, given the circumstances,” he stumbles. 

“Tell me the truth; my advice depends on it.”

Liam raises his head, making full eye-contact with his friend. “Yes, I’ve never loved anyone else. That’s why I don’t intend to mess with him like they messed with me. I have no idea what it’s like to be left behind...thankfully that’s one lesson I’ve never had to learn and all the glitz of the last eight years...I looked at it as a blessing, but now it’s just a curse. I don’t know why I didn’t realise any of this earlier.”

Harry takes his time to answer, but after what feels like hours, he finally says, “Ok, listen, I reckon that what you’re telling me is genuine and so I’m gonna let you into a secret. Zayn is not and never has been in a relationship with Saffi’s mother, nor does he have a significant other.” 

Harry pauses, giving Liam the chance to digest the news.

“But the girl…he isn’t with anyone?” Liam manages eventually.  
“Nope,” Harry says, popping his p. “Saffi is his biological daughter though, as you have probably figured out. Ask him about that when you see him.”

“You think I should go?”

“Yes, I do...and the rest is up to him.”

Liam can honestly say that this is not the response he was expecting. Fortune has gifted him an opportunity to extend an olive branch to Zayn. 

“If you’re sticking around, you can come to mine and Louis’ wedding next May,” Harry says casually, but the excitement in his voice is unmissable. 

“That’s wonderful news, Hazza. I’d love to accept, but I have to wait and see if I can make peace with Zayn and then, about Tommo...he let me know in no uncertain term that he’ll kick my ass if I ever so much as peek in Zayn’s direction.”

“Leave him to me. If your chat with Zayn goes well, I can’t see why Lou shouldn’t let you live.” Harry bursts out laughing at his own joke. 

Zayn and Louis are the closest friends Liam has ever come across. When Zayn moved down from Yorkshire and joined their sixth form, he connected with Louis over their mutual home county. Since then, they’ve been inseparable. Liam had often admired Harry for tolerating their close bond even though he is the one who is romantically involved with Louis.

“Right, I have to open up and earn some pennies, these weddings don’t come cheap.” Harry pushes away from the counter and ushers Liam towards the exit. “You should go over to Zayn’s now. He’s been on earlies today, so he should be in, and Saffi is still at school. Good luck, mate, and don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t; thank you Hazza.” Liam squeezes Harry into a sideways hug.

It’s now or never. Liam exhales sharply and heads for Flowers by Caroline to have the most challenging conversation of his existence.

*****

The woman who owns the flower shop gave Liam a pleasant yet curious smile when she informed him she thinks that Zayn is at home, and for him just to go up. Now he stands next to a pair of purple rollerblades, on a doormat that has ZAP printed on it and his heart hammers uncontrollably. “What if this is a terrible idea? Maybe he hates your guts and slams the door in your face,” his mind supplies unhelpfully but he decides not to let that linger and raises his shaking hand to knock on the door. 

Four or five erratic heartbeats later and Zayn opens the door a crack, his expression guarded.

“You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that,” he says with a tight voice. 

Liam swallows heavily. “Can we talk? Please?”

Zayn opens the door fully, and Liam trails him into the flat. So, he let him in. That’s got to be a positive thing, Liam is trying to convince himself. But whatever temporary relief he had felt vanishes in an instant when he looks into the other man’s stony face. 

Zayn perches on the edge of a triangular coffee table without offering Liam a seat. “What do you want?” he snaps.

“You don’t seem to be surprised that I’m here,” Liam says hoping he can delay having to talk about the things he actually needs to discuss.

Zayn’s face softens somewhat. “Saffi made a full confession and ever since that day at Maccies, she’s been waiting. She was certain you would come.”

“And you weren’t?”

“No, funnily enough, I have trust issues when it comes to you...can’t think why. “ Zayn smirks.

Liam has no response. How can he express what he is so desperate to convey? The right words won’t come, and he lets his eyes wander around the small room, buying himself a moment’s respite. Everything is just so Zayn. None of the furnishings matches, but it all combines to create a warm, cosy home. Zayn has all of his comic book paraphernalia on display, toys are scattered everywhere, and the walls are covered in his and Safina's artwork. She has obviously inherited her father’s talent.

“Was there anything else?” Zayn says in a clipped tone as he gets up and takes a few steps to where Liam shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. 

Resisting the urge to throw his arms around his ex-boyfriend, Liam digs his fingers into his thighs. “I want to apologise unreservedly to you, Zayn. I don’t have a lot to say in my defence other than that they sent me away so quickly and I always meant for you to join me over there, and then the weeks turned into months, and it got more and more difficult to get in touch, especially after that last phone call. The glitz and glamour sucked me in, but there was never a day when I didn’t think about you.”

He struggles to get the words out, but he keeps going. “Anyway, I’ve made the decision to start from scratch. I got a place to stay and a job, and now I just needed to tell you how sorry and ashamed I am.” The last words are barely audible as Liam fights back the tears.

“I forgive you, Liam.”

What? Liam inhales deeply, doing his best to compose himself. 

“We all make mistakes, I’ve learnt that,” Zayn says, “Can I ask you something as well?”

Liam can only nod, scarcely able to take in that Zayn isn’t actually ripping his head off.

“Why haven’t you mentioned the elephant in the room yet?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Saffi. Don’t you want to know why I have a child and what my relationship status is?”

Liam smiles for the first time since his arrival. “It’s none of my business but just seeing you with your daughter is amazing. She is clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to you. As for your relationship, Harry has already told me that you’re single.”

“Hazza? How? Never mind, I shouldn’t be surprised he’s meddling,” Zayn scoffs. “Well, I’ll fill you in then. Saffi is the result of a one night stand. We were both completely smashed, so much so that I don’t even remember her name. She found out who I am though and left the baby at the hospital with a letter informing the authorities of my parentage and before you ask, yes, I’ve done a test. I have sole custody, but I’m searching for her, cause I think it’s important for Saffi to know who her mother is.”

“That’s awesome, the way you’ve stepped up to the plate,” Liam says sincerely.

Zayn waves a dismissive hand. “She’s my flesh and blood, and I have lots of support. My family, Lou, Hazz and Ni are rallying around me...couldn’t do it without them.”

Liam is uncomfortably aware that is the only one out of their group of friends missing from Zayn’s support network. Head hanging low, he focuses on the shelf underneath the coffee table when he notices the sketchbook. ‘Liam’ is written in beautiful calligraphy on its cover.

“Can I see it?” he asks tentatively.

Tracing Liam’s gaze, Zayn mutters something unintelligible, but he slides the book from under the table and hands it to him.

Liam can feel the blood rushing to his face as he flicks cautiously through the pages. Every one of the exceptional drawings depicts him from when he left to very recently. No wonder Safina was able to recognise him. 

“Zayn, these are incredible...but they're not from when I left. You’ve documented every stage of my life in the states, how did you do that?” 

Zayn runs his thumb over his bottom lip, a sure fire sign that he is flustered. “It wasn’t difficult, you’d be surprised how often you appear in the local society columns. I thought if I pour my feelings into these pictures, I could eventually get over you. But as you can see, I’ve failed.”

“Your feelings?” Liam echoes in disbelief, “all these years?” The shock on his face is not feigned. He hadn’t anticipated that Zayn would open up like that. When they were he together, he used to be fairly tight-lipped about his emotions. 

“There is a reason why I’m single.” Zayn comes a little closer, and his nearness is killing Liam. “I’ve dated a few people … but they couldn’t accept not being my number one priority and besides…”

“Besides?” 

“None of them were you.” 

Liam blinks slowly, extending his hand towards Zayn, then hesitates and drops it at the last moment without making contact.

“What are you saying, Zee?” 

“I’m saying that I never stopped loving you, despite you ripping my soul to shreds. No idea why, but for some fucking reason, it’s you...always has been.”

Zayn’s words weaken Liam’s knees. He finds it really hard to believe that he’s not in the middle of an elaborate dream. Not in his wildest imagination could he have envisaged an outcome like this. 

“Do you think we could start again?” he asks, trying to steady the hammering of his heart.

“What would be different this time, Li?”

“Liam closes the remaining space between them, taking Zayn’s hand into his. “I’ve grown up. I’m aware of how horribly I’ve behaved. Please, allow me to make it up to you. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to express and you, me and Saffi, we can be happy together, I know it.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Zayn says, the fingers of his free hand flirting down Liam’s arm. 

“Yeah, I know, but am I wrong for wanting us to make it?” 

Zayn says nothing, just wraps his arms around Liam’s waist, mumbling into his chest, “No, you’re not. Did you mean what you said about the three of us? I want nothing more than to be with you, but my daughter is the most important person to me...you ok with that?”

“I’m planning to make both of you happy,” Liam says earnestly.

“Well, in that case, I want you to kiss me before Saffi comes home, she’s gonna be so chuffed to see you here, but it may be a little bit overwhelming for her if she finds us sucking each other’s face off.”

Liam doesn’t need to be told twice. He joins their lips together, and suddenly there is no doubt where his home is.


End file.
